


Steel in Side Pocket

by 0fsilver



Category: RWBY
Genre: IronBird, IronQrow, M/M, Mid Season Finale, RWBY spoilers, Smoopyfeelings, never ever beta read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 16:04:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6015661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0fsilver/pseuds/0fsilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though they are high above the chaos heading to safety, Qrow feels panic like adrenaline begging him to fight...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steel in Side Pocket

Though they are high above the chaos heading to safety, Qrow feels panic like adrenaline begging him to fight. 

Unseen enemies clawing at the edges of exhausted eyes, nameless shapes curling against his senses. The airship is clean and efficient. Medical teams working their way through the groups of shivering children, hunters to be, and aiding best they can.

Some on board are worse than others.

Yang is stable for now, closely monitored by the military doctors. Ruby sleeps, body still on a cot at his feet, her friends biting back tears and well-deserved exclamations as their world seems broken for the moment. Qrow doesn’t remember being a child, afraid of the world. He’s seen his fair share of terror, of monsters uncloaked and vicious beneath the sun. This? This was simply hell and even his years of experience can’t stop the aching shiver of worry riding his spine.

Ruby sniffles in slumber. She wont wake yet, but he knows she will eventually. Her brow wrinkled, too young for such hurt. She looks like her mother and his mind shuts down the memories before he’s lost to them. Yang was lucky to survive and he wonders if Taiyang is going to lose his voice from screaming at him first, or if he’ll be rendered speechless by the state of his daughters. Years ago Qrow can remember holding a sleeping Yang in his arms. Ruby, fragile and pink humming herself to sleep in a cradle nearby, vowing he’d never let anything happen to these girls.

Failure is certainly a familiar taste.

“Qrow?”

Ironwood stands above him casting an impossible shadow. Always the goliath even while the world proceeds in making him feel so small. His tattered clothes have been replaced with a lower officer’s jacket. The bare skin and metal beneath a starched collar, hidden from the world. One glove, harsh worn leather from a fellow soldier, hiding the mechanics of an installed right hand.

“Jimmy.”

He must look a wreck that the usual correction doesn’t follow the name. James glances down to the small girl curled up beneath layers of gray blankets. A holographic orb hovering nearby, monitoring her vitals with a quiet chirp.

“Walk with me?” Ironwood nods towards the length of the ship where students and civilians huddled together for assurance.

“Not really up for whatever lecture you have in mind.” Qrow answers, teeth tight in the back of his mouth struggling to feel past the suffocating weight of the day. His scythe lays, useless and heavy beside him. It wasn’t enough to save them.

“Qrow.” Ironwood persists and there’s a shine in his eyes that reads as desperation. Strong as he may look, Qrow always told Jimmy his eyes gave him away. “Please.”

“Well there’s a word you don’t hear often.” Qrow rolls his eyes and even that hurts. Watches Ironwood snap a command to a nearby soldier to stand guard over the sleeping girl and Qrow can’t help but appreciate the forethought. Though it’s really too late to protect Ruby from much more. “Fine.” He rises from the metal bench and proceeds with hands stuffed deep into pockets. Abandoning the scythe to the sight of his back, bitter that it couldn’t do enough that day. Following three steps, then four, eventually trailing to a length distance between the two men. Not quite eager for whatever the impending conversation might hold.

They walk for a time in silence. Allowing medical personnel to step past them with a limping patient. Soldiers carrying boxes of supplies to their cargo hold of Beacon refugees. There was a certain gloom to the ship, an unshakable sadness gripping every expression and slouch of shoulders of those on board. Qrow felt it as vividly as a burn searing his spine. He wondered if Ironwood felt it too? How much weight could those great shoulders bear before they folded?

Eventually they found solitude. A sparse cabin with dim lights and little more than a desk and a bed. The lack of personality allowed Qrow the comfort they weren’t intruding on a soldier’s living space. That would have set him off rather quickly, though there was little rest in his suspicions once the door closed behind them.

“Whats this about?”

“How are you?”

“What?” His shoulders jump with surprise, eyes ache as they stare into the General’s steel shape. Two knuckles crack as hands curl to fists at his sides. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Today has been quite the ordeal, I wondered if you were—” Qrow might never be as physically strong as James, but in the rise of anger he’s strong enough to throw the man back. Their weight and poorly timed limbs leading them to fall against the simple desk. Ironwood’s great stature taken down by surprise, arms bent to keep his body from falling as the rest of him bowed to the table and the furious man holding his collar.

“Are you serious!? You took me away from her for that?!” There’s something in James’ eyes Qrow doesn’t want to see right now. Something best forgotten so he shakes the man, furious and sloppy. Knuckles white where they twist in fabric baring a collar both flesh and steel. “You have a ship full of crying /civilians/ and you’re asking if I’m ok?! The hell is wrong with you?!”

“You’re hurt!” James tries to speak over Qrow’s anger, but the concern does little.  
  
“A lot of people are hurt, General.” He sneers.

“But you were in the thick of it.” Ironwood presses on. “You could have died.”

“And children ARE dead!” The obvious strikes him cold, nauseous and afraid. So he strikes James in return. One fist cracking over the absurdly symmetrical jaw in hopes of lessening his sharp anger. The shift of weight leaves him with a forearm pressed into James’ chest, body slouching into the other who now has a bleeding lip along with a rumpled shirt. There’s a shine of hurt in those stupid blue eyes, but no fear or anger. Too earnest for his own good. “Dammit Jimmy.” Qrow feels shoulders give, pounds a fist for good measure against the metal breast plate beneath the uniform.

He thinks of bodies in the streets. Of faces slack and those caught in terror. He thinks of a poor girl on the top of a tower who was promised glory and only left to pain. He thinks of Ozpin and lost hope and all the things he didn’t do to stop it.

“Qrow.” The last thing Qrow wants to remember is how comforting Ironwood’s rock-steady voice can be when the floor is spilling out like water beneath his feet.

“They could have /died/.” His voice cracks enough to startle him, try to pull back but there’s a steady grip on his elbow and James wont let him go. “Yang almost did! And Ruby when she wakes up—IF SHE does wake up!” He yanks the arm back only for Ironwood to follow, refusing to surrender the taken ground. Ever the dedicated soldier. “I promised—He’s going to hate me—”

“I know.”

“And they—”

“I know.”

“Dammit!” Qrow’s yell breaks off into a laugh, arm anchored by James’ grip and knowing he’s not going anywhere anytime soon without the man yielding. “What a time to be sober am I right?” The laugh drains into a pained noise, eyes feeling shallow and empty. Powerless where he should be strongest. The strength in his bones hollowed out and abandoning him to the sensation of falling.

“I have you.” James’ voice is low, once familiar. A memory of a younger man plays itself much to Qrow’s disappointment. A soldier easily flustered by the teasing of gray at his temples. Too serious for his own good yet lazy in early morning light beneath clean sheets and sunrise. Qrow remembers Jimmy, feels like a lifetime ago when he’d await word of shore leave. Meet the bitterly frowning man in whatever city an Atlesian airship would make port. Do his best to make the sour face break into a smile. Maybe even a laugh as they lazed around in the early morning, Qrow trying to upgrade James’ military grade revolver and James trying to cut his hair.

Those young men almost strangers from another world to the Qrow and Ironwood now. Barely standing in the dark with the world crumbling beneath mistakes.

“Are you ok?” Qrow asks before resting hands flat to James’ chest. One warmed by the steady pulse of a heart, the other soothed by the hard plane of a metal plate. Scars like lightning separating the two very different sides of James which made the man whole.

“I’m fine.”

“Jimmy, the world doesn’t know you like I do. They won’t know what to think.” He corrects, staring up at blue eyes too emotive for James’ safety. Dammit.

“Right now. My only concern is getting these people to safety.” James assures. “And seeing that you are at your best when those girls wake up.”

“Damn.” Qrow can’t help but smile, almost angrier at the sentiment than the hell they fled. “You still sweet on me? Even after all this time?” It’s meant as a tease, but he can tell by the sharp tension in James’ body that it struck a bit too close to home. “Sorry.” Eyes sweep to the side before resting his brow against the center of the split chest. Half cool half warm, allowing himself to relax against the broad space. There’s blood and panic in the air, a scent he knows too well yet it feels clean and comforting in this moment while James’ great arms come to rest across his back. Loose enough of a hold that if Qrow decided to flee, he could.

“I couldn’t keep you in a cage before,” James speaks quietly over the moment, letting Qrow relax for the time being, conscious of the time they spend in the dark. Nose buried in dark hair, his own memories kept neat in steel traps, never to surrender despite the many times Qrow told him to let them go. “I already have a medical evac ship ready to meet you upon our landing. They’ll tend to Yang. Ruby. I’ve sent a ship for their Father.”

“What about you?”

“I have other matters to attend to.”

“You mean taking the blame for whatever these monsters did?” James doesn’t answer immediately and while Qrow can’t handle the weight of another on his shoulders, his stomach twists in concern. “If you need me…”

They almost kiss. There’s a moment, chins briefly touch and James’ mouth is low enough that all Qrow needs to do is put forth the effort to reach him. It would be kind, and sweet. It would sand down the edges of pain in Qrow’s mind just for the moment. Allow him a silent moment of peace, recalling the shy way James would kiss him. How poorly they fit together and how it once thrilled him to see the man flush at affections.

They don’t kiss.

“I know where the send button is.” Ironwood lets go, easing Qrow back to his feet and allowing him the freedom to leave. In blue eyes reads disappointment, but also hope. For others. For anyone but himself as he prepares to beg forgiveness to greater powers. His destiny cloudy and tangled in unprepared bureaucracy.

“Don’t be cute.” Qrow warns as the moment passes. Missing the sight of his niece like an agonizing wound. “I have to get back.”

“Of course. “James becomes a General once again. Rising to full height, tall and unreachable by gentle words. A hand slips through borrowed clothing and fetches a small silver flask. Qrow’s own lost in the fray, but the Atlesian symbol shines bright on the surface presented to him. “It’s not the filth you drink but…”  
  
Qrow takes the flask without second thought. Brings hot liquor to his mouth and swallows greedily. Allows injury to swell his belly and eyes to burn. Ironwood is cast in a pink shade, Qrow’s senses slightly shifting back into place.

“Thank you.” He offers the heavy flask back but is refused with an easy wave of a gloved hand. Ironwood’s collar buttoned neat before Qrow sees. The General back in place without sign of the young man Qrow once shared beneath stars.

“Go back to your girls.” He assures. Standing there, ever the soldier when Qrow leaves him in the dark. The gentle memory of a young soldier haunting his mind more than any monster could.

 


End file.
